


Loss

by the_Runaway075 (orphan_account)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Implied Mpreg, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Married Life, Not Canon Compliant, Old Married Couple, Older!Gladnoct - Freeform, Slice of Life, Till Death Do Us Part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 01:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17437505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/the_Runaway075
Summary: This is what Noctis enjoys most, this is his freedom.





	Loss

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is just sad. It's something I wrote up in the scheme of an hour just because I cannot have enough Older Gladnoct angst. I'll just leave some tissues here for when you're finished. :'(

  Another dreadful meeting draws to a close and Noctis steps out of the hall with a face that says he tires of his everyday life. He’d rather be in the wilderness, where he could run free and never have to solve anyone’s problems for them again.  

  Far away from the other inhabitants of the Citadel, Noctis meets up with his Shield by his bed chambers. He takes his hand and leads them upstairs, and Gladio doesn’t have to guess what will conspire behind those closed doors.  

  This is what Noctis enjoys most though, this is his freedom. When it’s just the two of them, nothing else matters. When a king’s day begins, he’s everything for everybody. But when  _Noctis's_ day ends, he doesn’t have to be anything, if only willing to lie down for a few minutes while he and his husband make love.  

  Noctis doesn’t complain; in fact, he rather enjoys how lazy he’s allowed to be when in Gladio’s arms. He lets Gladio do all the work, making sweet noises while Gladio revels in the sound of him. His pleasure is watching Gladio, studying how diligently his brows knit together in concentration, how right and comfortable their bodies feel against one another.  

  And once they're done, Gladio rolls over exhausted while Noctis hums in contentment, sharing the moist warmth that they’ve produced together underneath the sheets. Then they talk - for hours. Noctis lays across Gladio’s broad chest, humming in agreement to the faraway dreams of his Shield, whose dark, honeyed eyes ever linger on his beloved’s face.  

  They talk of the future, of their hopes, perhaps the children they might conceive one day in the middle of their passionate romps… And it all sounds so wonderful, so close Noctis can almost taste it. He loves when Gladio goes on and on about his heart’s desires, like they might actually come true.  

  Maybe they will.  

  Years pass, and then they’re well-aged and silver-haired, their focuses having shifted to the more simple aspects of life - the ones they used to ignore or take for granted in their younger days.  

  Noctis has given birth to three sons in a span of only four years, his joke being that they never missed a day of lovemaking since puberty. Their sons are now grown and far gone with their own lives, leaving their fathers to bask in the golden days of their old age.  

  Only, it’s not as easy as Noctis thought it would be. Every morning, it’s a new ache, whether it’s in his back, his hips, or his legs; arthritis has no preference to whom it causes suffering. He often wakes up with a groan, which he’s not proud of because it wakes Gladio up, too. He wishes it didn’t bother Gladio as much as it did him.  

  In the past few weeks, Gladio has stayed overnight in the hospital three times for muscle weakness. His heart isn’t as strong or efficient as it used to be, and though he pleasures in the act of sex, his doctors have highly advised against it due to risks of overexertion.  

  Some nights, he buries his face in Noctis’s breasts as he breaks down and cries. He’s less of a man now, unable to give Noctis what he desires, what makes him happy. Noctis understands, holding him tightly, knowing things will never be the same for his lover.  

  Gladio has always been the stronger one in their little pair, the more resilient in all their troubles. Noctis cries with him sometimes, but it’s more out of loss than out of love.  

  Don’t get him wrong. He just misses his Gladio, his strength in the form of a man who’s stolen his heart.  

  In spite of the warnings of the doctors, they take a chance with intimacy. Noctis lies down among the mountain of pillows Gladio has prepared for him as his lover climbs atop the end of the bed toward him, like a lion courting its mate. Noctis’s smile says yes, but his blue eyes are fearful, expecting the worst.  

  Gladio settles on his knees, ignoring the cracks they make as his weight is piled on top of them. There’s a slight tightness in his chest, but he doesn’t want to worry his lover. He stays quiet as he massages the underneath sides of Noctis’s thighs, helping him relax against his body’s desire to cramp up and give in.  

  Noctis takes some deep breaths as Gladio lifts his legs and sets his feet in the crooks of his bulky shoulders. He flexes his toes, just to make sure Gladio can take the weight and pressure of Noctis pushing against him. “I love you,” he says, and whispers again when Gladio brings a warm palm up to the side of his neck.  

  Gladio smiles warmly in response to those words he’s heard so many times, lovingly caressing the soft, tender flesh just moments ago he left kisses on.  

  Just before Gladio slides inside Noctis, he huffs a sharp breath and nearly chokes on it, dropping his head onto Noctis’s soft belly. His breathing intensifies, heavy and labored as he grasps at his chest, a mad heat searing within.  

  Noctis goes into full panic, hitting his lover’s shoulder and calling his name to try to grab his attention. But when Gladio doesn’t answer, only coughs violently, Noctis freaks and screams for help.  

  In the meantime, Noctis cradles his lover and coos against his cheek, willing him, begging him not to leave him. It’s too quiet after Gladio holds on weakly to Noctis’s hand and inhales… but the breath never leaves his lungs.  

  The rest of that evening blurs in Noctis’s mind. He doesn’t much remember the tears, the nights without sleep, the memorial service, the burial… He can’t think that far back, and in the silence and emptiness of his enormous bedroom, he swears he can often hear Gladio’s gentle, heavy breaths in his ear, like he’s only sleeping. It’s those times in the dead of night that Noctis buries his face in his pillow and screams, crying himself to sleep.  

  There’s nothing else he can do.  

  Even years after the funeral, Noctis shuffles around the Citadel as if he were a ghost. He doesn’t speak to anyone anymore, unless Ignis coaxes it out of him gently, Noctis’s trust lying only in him now. He’s shut himself inside, requesting to never be disturbed, not even by his own children.  

  He’s lost, still clutching to the memory he should’ve forgiven a long time ago. Most days, he locks his bedroom door and naps for nine to ten hours at a time. Ignis worries constantly, but there’s little he can do to help. He’ll knock on the king’s door once in a while and ask if Noctis needs anything.  

  No. There’s nothing he needs now. He needs Gladio, he wants Gladio.  

  But he can’t have him. Gods, life is cruel. Noctis has always been denied happiness, he has always been punished for doing good.   

And in the dark of his despair, Noctis wonders why. He begs for an answer as he cries out Gladio’s name…  

  But it never comes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you*


End file.
